


Hobbits Will Get You

by Fangirlyra



Series: King!Bilbo AU [3]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: BAMF Hobbits, Cute Bilbo Baggins, Gen, Humor, King!Bungo, kid!Bilbo, prince!bilbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:02:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24149398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirlyra/pseuds/Fangirlyra
Summary: A man came to the Shire for nefarious purposes and found that the Shire was not as defenseless as he thought. He learned the hard way that you should not underestimate hobbits.This is set in the Baggins of The Shire AU but can be read as stand alone.
Series: King!Bilbo AU [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/62471
Comments: 6
Kudos: 270





	Hobbits Will Get You

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is set in the Baggins of The Shire AU in TA 2901 or SR 1301. Bilbo is 11 years old (equivalent to 5 - 6 years old). 
> 
> You did not have to read BoTS first, but there are a few things you should know:  
> 1\. Bagginses are basically king of the Shire and 'Mister Baggins' is their title.  
> 2\. The Shire had much more organized government than the books/movies  
> 3\. The Shire is in close relations with the Rangers of the North
> 
> Enjoy!

The man jolted awake from his slumber and reached out for his sword just to find that it was not there. He reached for the knives in his boots and found that...his boots are gone too! He was sure that he was _wearing_ them when he slept!

He turned to chase whatever being that had robbed him and was faced by a pitchfork in front of his face, held by a hobbit wearing a feathered cap. He stepped back and felt three sharp points pressed on his back, _another_ pitchfork wielding halfling was behind him.

“Hands where I can see them!” barked the hobbit in front of him.

The man slowly raised up his hands for he had no wish to be skewered by pitchforks. From the corner of his eyes he saw _yet another_ hobbit with a feathered cap holding his sword and knives.

“Who are you and why do you come so heavily armed to the Shire?” he asked.

The man didn’t know this but these three remarkable Hobbits were the Shirriffs of Westfarthing and the one that just asked the question was the Chief Shirriff.

“I was on my way to Ered Luin from Dunland!” answered the man, “I got lost and camped for the night!”

“Lies!” said the Chief Shirriff, “We hobbits can tell when others lie! One more lie out of your mouth they will stab you!”

It was utter wargshit of course, the Shirriffs simply had spied the man leering suspiciously on hobbitlings for a couple of days after the Bounders informed them that a man had slipped through the border of The Shire and judging by his camp and provisions the man was definitely not lost. Therefore only one conclusion came to mind: _he must be here for nefarious purposes_.

There was not much that was known to men about hobbits, but the man was sure that they would do something nasty to him if they knew of his purpose in the Shire. And as far as he knew they _really_ can tell when people lie, so he kept his mouth shut.

“Tie him up! We’ll take him to the Thain,” ordered the Chief Shirriff when he saw that the man wouldn’t say anything to them.

The Shirriff in front of him lowered his pitchfork to take the coils of rope on his waist. The man saw an opening and tried to dash away from his captors. He reckoned that with those short legs, these hobbits would not be able to catch up with him if he managed to flee. But before he could get more than a few steps, the Chief Shirriff lashed something at him and the man’s last thought was:

_‘Is that a conker!?’_ as the chestnut hit him hard in his forehead and he lost his consciousness.

When he came around, he was tied to a chair and two important looking hobbits were staring at him intently. 

“I have questions for you man! And you better answer them truthfully!” glowered the one on the right, “Because if you lie, I will _know!_ ”

That was Isumbras Took, the Thain of Westfarthing. He was very irritated because he had to stay up until midnight waiting for the Shirriffs to bring the man in. But the man just _had_ to try to run away, therefore had to be knocked out, _therefore_ had to be waited until he regained his consciousness.

Of course the man knew nothing of these, all he knew was that the hobbit looked very irate and quite fierce. So he kept his lip tight as the hobbit barked question after questions. After an hour of unanswered questions, the other Hobbit put a hand on Isumbras’ shoulder and said,

“This is not going to work,” he shook his head, “Send word to Arador, let men deal with men.”

Hearing the name of the North Rangers’ Chieftain, the man was very relieved that he didn’t answer any of the hobbits’ questions including his name, for he was known to the Rangers and was sought after for his many _many_ crimes.

“What do we do with him, Mister Baggins?” asked one of the Shirriffs.

“Put him in the unused barn near Woodhall,” sighed Mister Baggins, “It had a sturdy lock.”

It seemed that these hobbits had never taken prisoners before and had no prison to keep him. Hope perked up inside him: he had escaped men’s prisons before; surely a barn would not be able to keep him long?

Well, he couldn’t be more wrong. 

The Shirriffs tossed him unceremoniously inside the barn and closed the door. The man could hear the click and the clang and the thud and the scrape and _just how many locks did the door had?_

It was pitch black inside but he could feel a breeze coming through and it gave him a chill. He tried to stand up but he banged his head on the low ceiling. Finally he decided to wait until the sun is up hopefully it might shed some light to his predicament.

Morning came and sunlight streamed through a hole on the roof but he can’t seem to find a way out. The knots on his wrist are tight and secure and there was nothing sharp enough to cut the rope. The door didn’t budge a bit no matter how hard he pounded. He even tried to dig around the hole on the roof to no avail, not even his head can pass through the tiny hole.

As the day passed and the sky was getting dark he realized that the Hobbits were not going to feed or water him. He was at his wit’s end and so he did the only thing he could do for the moment: he ignored his parched throat and gnawing stomach and tried to get some rest.

When he woke up it was morning but something was obstructing the sunbeam. He looked up and saw a tiny face staring at him unabashedly. It was a small hobbit child, peering through the little hole on the roof.

“Are you one of the Big Folk?” asked the child

“I suppose I am,” rasped the man.

“Awesome! I have never seen one before!” said the child gleefully.

“Are you supposed to be here lad?” asked the man.

“Not really,” the child shrugged, “But my Da said there’s a Big Folk in the barn and we mustn’t go near, and...and I just want to _see.”_

A seed of a plan started to form in the man’s mind. It seemed that he still had a chance of escaping and completing his objective. As if on cue, his stomach growled loudly.

“Are you hungry Mr. Big Folk?”

  
  


“I am hungry indeed and thirsty too,” answered the man, “Can you help me?”

“Well I have some apples and a bottle of water... but my Ma told me to share it with my friends,” the child scrunched his nose, “Are we friends?”

“We could be,” said the man.

“Then we should do some introduction!” the child enunciated the last word carefully and puffed up after he managed to say it properly.

“Very well,” the man couldn’t see any harm in telling the child his name and it looked like things can work to his advantage, “I’m Mual, son of Miel.”

“I’m Bilbo, son of Bungo! Nice to meet you!” Bilbo cheered.

“Now will you share your apples with me please?” Mual asked as sweetly as possible.

Bilbo nodded vigorously and dropped two apples and a water bottle through the hole. Mual caught the apples and devoured them in no time after that he opened the water bottle (with some maneuvering mind you, his wrist was still bound together) and drank the content in big gulps. All the while Bilbo watched him silently even though he looked like he was almost bursting with question.

Sure enough as soon as Mual finished his water questions came rapidly from Bilbo like a burst dam,

“Can you tell me about what lies out there? Have you ever been to the mountain? Have you seen the sea? You know I’ve always wanted to be an adventurer like my Ma! But my Da would never let me!”

Mual smiled wickedly, this could go very well for him indeed. He answered each and every question truthfully and Bilbo was listening earnestly, wide-eyed and enraptured with the world outside of the Shire. It was then Mual decided to press his advantage,

“You know, now that we are friends I could take you to go adventuring with me,” he said.

“Really!?” Bilbo was astonished, “But where will we go? Is it exciting? Please don’t lie Mr. Mual, ‘cause if you lie...”

“You will know?” Mual rolled his eyes. These hobbits had the most troublesome gift.

Bilbo nodded.

“We will be travelling South. We will pass the Brandywine and the Greyflood. We will see Dunland and Isengard. You might be able to steal a glimpse of Saruman the Wise in his tower!”

Well there goes nothing. Moreover it would be so much easier to bring a willing traveler rather than a struggling child and judging by the wide eyed look of awe in Bilbo’s face he was _very_ willing.

“And then we will arrive at the foot of Ered Nimrais!” Mual finishes with a flourish.

“What will we find there?”

“There lived a rich Lord of Men, he had heard of Hobbits but never met one before. I think he’ll like to meet you very much!”

“Really?” gasped Bilbo in awe.

“Yes really!” Mual was completely in his element, “He was a great collector! You will find many exciting things in his home!”

“Oooooh!” exclaimed Bilbo excitedly.

“But of course I could only take you if I wasn’t locked in here,” said Mual in a pretend sad tone.

“Oh! You got locked inside? That could happen sometimes when you’re not careful! There’s one time when my cousin Fortinbras got accidentally locked in a-“

“Yes I was most careless indeed, therefore I got locked inside,” said Mual in a haste before Bilbo could ramble any further.

“I could go and asked the Shirriffs for the keys!” said Bilbo, “They are most helpful!”

“No! You mustn’t! If you do that I will get in trouble! And if I get in trouble we can’t go adventuring!”

The Hobbit child scrunched his face again,

“Then what should I do?”

“Can’t you just...take the key without them knowing?” asked Mual carefully.

“I supposed I could,” said Bilbo, “But wouldn’t it be stealing?”

“Of course it won’t! You are going to put it back right?”

Bilbo nodded.

“Then it was only borrowing!”

“Well then...I think I can get them tonight and let you out early tomorrow. Would it be fine?”

“It would be most fine! But you mustn’t tell anybody about this! It would be our _secret._ ”

Bilbo nodded vigorously.

“See you tomorrow then Mr.Mual!” and off he went.

Mual smiled triumphantly. Children everywhere were the same, so easily tricked without even having to tell a single lie. That night he slept soundly dreaming about the bag of gold that he will get when he delivers the Hobbit child to the collector.

The next morning he woke up to the sound of locks being unlocked. He sat down eagerly and smiled wider after each click, snap, and clang. But his smile fell when the door finally opened because standing in front of the door was Mister Baggins and five rangers. One of the rangers was a grim man and he wore the mark of the chief. The Chief gestured to two of the rangers to go in and dragged him outside.

“So what did you find out?” asked the Chief.

“He was Mual son of Miel, a poacher. He was sent by a Lord from the foot of Ered Nimrais to poach a hobbitling. It seemed that the Lord was some sort of a collector,” answered Mister Baggins smoothly.

Mual dropped his jaw. _How did he know all that?_ _Was someone listening while he was talking to Bilbo yesterday?_

“Mual son of Miel was wanted for many crimes, tis a good catch!” said Arador, “and we will inform the Rangers of Ithilien about this collector Lord.”

Before the Hobbit could answer a small thud was heard. A small hobbit child had latched onto Argonui’s leg.

“Bilbo! You’re supposed to be with your Ma!” admonished Mister Baggins.

“But Da! I want to see Arador!” whined Bilbo

The Chieftain of the Dunedain’s grim visage melted and chuckled and patted Bilbo’s head,

“It’s good to see you lad.” he said.

“It’s good to see you too!” Bilbo’s smile was blinding.

“No hug for me, little Bilbo?” asked one of the younger rangers.

“Arathorn!” squealed Bilbo and he all but threw himself against Arathorn’s legs.

Arathorn swooped Bilbo up and put him on his shoulder while Bilbo laughing joyfully.

Mual was bewildered by the scene before him. He had been played most masterfully by these...these _deceitful little halflings!_ He snapped and started to curse in the most colorful language. Argonui snapped his fingers and the two rangers dragged him away while Arathorn dutifully covered Bilbo’s tiny ears with his hands.

“I did good aint’ I, Arathorn?” asked Bilbo.

“You did very well indeed, Young Master Baggins.”

As he was dragged away a thought came to Mual,

“Can hobbits really tell when someone’s lying?” he asked.

“Of course not!” exclaimed the ranger on his left, “Whoever tells you that?”

**Author's Note:**

> Arathorn is 27 years old here, I decided to describe him as 'young' because the Numenorean doesn't seem to age the same way as your normal middle-earth dudes.
> 
> In the LoTR appendices, Gilraen (Aragorn's mother) at 20 years old is described as 'had not reached the age at which the women of the Dunedain were accustomed to marry' and when Arathorn died at 60 years old he is described as 'short lived'.


End file.
